


someone to take her place

by bl00dw1tch



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alien Biology, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Memory Alteration, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Canon, Revenge Sex, Trauma, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bl00dw1tch/pseuds/bl00dw1tch
Summary: A fic grafted from discord shenanigans.Micah is sad, and angry, and misses his wife. He knows exactly who to blame--but how should he punish them?
Relationships: Hordak/Micah (She-Ra)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	someone to take her place

Hordak glanced over his shoulder as the King approached, shuddered under the breeze before looking back forward, towards the expanse of the Whispering Woods, "Your Majesty." 

"Hordak," Micah greeted in reply, walking up next to him, looking up at the stars. His voice was dry and bitter--it always was when he spoke to him, "It's a lovely night out."

The clone resisted the urge to shy away, crossing his arms tightly, moreso hugging himself, instead, "Yes." 

The silence was thick and tense enough to pluck like a harp string. Hordak's wings hugged tighter around his shoulders when he finally took a step back, deeming that he'd now had an adequate amount of fresh air, "I should be h--" 

"Stay. I'm not done talking to you yet," Micah ordered, glaring back at Hordak. The taller man froze in his tracks, ears flicking back.

"What… Do you want to talk to me about?" 

Micah watched him for a moment, looking him up and down in a way that made Hordak's hair stand on end, like hackles rising. But he was fine, it was just anxiety--he should be used to this.

***

Micah really didn't know what to say. He had ideas, feelings--lots of them--but none he was quite ready to voice. He just knew that something needed to happen about Hordak living a luxurious rent free life in Brightmoon after killing his wife, and it needed to happen *now*. 

"Have you learned to fly yet?" 

Hordak looked surprised. His eyes widened and his wings fluttered before settling back down as he turns his face away, "No… Not yet. I know I'm still a prisoner, and I like being allowed outside. Learning might incline you to revoke that privilege," Hordak spoke carefully, lightly. As if he was describing a mediocre dinner he'd had a few nights ago rather than the fact that he was waiting to be sentenced for his crimes against Etheria and it's people. 

Micah frowned--yes, it was good that he understood his place. Of course it was. But now that he'd mentioned it, Micah wished that he was trying to teach himself to fly. That he was trying to escape. 

That Micah could have an excuse to keep him in an actual prison cell. 

He could get one built quickly. If the stories he'd been told were true, Brightmoon was in desperate need of one anyway. 

***

This was so frustrating. All he wanted was to *hurt* this **thing** in front of him--but his poor daughter, no, his poor *everyone* had grown so attached. They didn't want to see him hurt--they'd very nearly rioted when Micah had proposed an execution. 

So now Micah was stuck here. Watching Hordak flit around his home like he belonged there and play friendly with his daughter, and the king had no say in stopping it. Shadow Weaver had already been quite a bit--this… this was just infuriating. Playing host for the people who had ruined his life. 

Forced to watch this creature and somehow be reminded of his wife. 

It had to just be the silhouette. It had to just be the wings. Had it really been so long since he'd seen her? That even something as horrible as Hordak could remind him of her? Could possibly resemble his faded memories of her? 

Some sort of twisted parody of her, all because of those stupid fucking wings Adora gave him. 

He didn't deserve wings. He didn't deserve to resemble her even in the abstract. 

"I think you should give them a try anyway," The king said, gesturing towards him, "Hold them out. Let me see."

***

Hordak furrowed his eyebrows, "I… Appreciate the thought, but--" 

Micah looked him in the eye, "Spread your wings." 

Hordak didn't like this, he decided. No matter how this ended, he vowed to go on no more night walks in the garden. No amount of starry views was worth dealing with this painfully familiar churning in his stomach. 

But he listened, hesitantly flexing out one wing, keeping the other hugged tight to his shoulder. Micah walked up to him and reached out to touch the webbing, and he couldn't hold back the flinch this time. Micah gave him a look.

His ears pinned back and he glanced away, "They're sensitive," He said, and his voice sounded small in the deafening silence of the garden. 

It was a lie. A little white lie--more like a stretched truth. They weren't sensitive, not really--but he was. He wasn't used to these new limbs, but he was fond of them--fond enough that he was scared of them being damaged or taken away… Again. It made him upset to know that Prime had crippled him and all his brothers by stunting their wing growth the way he had. 

Maybe this fondness was what Etherians called 'instinct'. He was still new to the more primal sensations of life like this. 

***

Micah actually chuckled and shook his head at that--sensitive. 

Hordak, sensitive. Even if it was only his wings, the idea seemed absurd. The idea of Hordak with any kind of feeling seemed absurd. 

But Micah had seen him display emotions before, hadn't he? A great many of them. 

Tearful joy upon reuniting with Entrapta and tearful terror whenever Prime or the other clones got too close to Brightmoon most notably. He was very quick to cry, it seemed--a surprise to Micah. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now… Now he was wondering if his eyes had merely deceived him. 

He grabbed the outermost digit of Hordak's wing and yanked it wider open, making Hordak stumble with a yelp--Micah clenched his fist to keep him from tearing it free, only to find that Hordak made no such attempt. 

He just stood there, bent to the side as Micah had pulled him down, staring at him with wide eyes--scarcely even breathing. 

The king's frown deepened in thought.

*** 

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll have Glimmer and the other's gathered, and they'll help you learn to fly," Micah decided, letting go of his wing, stroking it once as Hordak pulled it back around himself, "For now, walk with me." 

"Your Majesty, I really don't--" 

"Walk. With me." 

Micah held a hand out, using it to turn Hordak around and kept it at the small of his back. The clone kept his ears down, letting the King guide him back towards the door inside. Micah nodded to the night shift guards as he passed them, and they nodded in return. 

The hallways were dim, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the many open windows. Micah wasn't sure where he was taking him, yet, so he just let his feet go where they pleased. In the meantime…

"Tell me more about Prime." 

Hordak tried to stop in his tracks, but the King shoved him forward, forcing him to keep walking. He has no idea Hordak's ears could droop down so low. 

"... What about him?" He asked--his voice was shaky. 

Micah took a breath, "Aside from the… Mind wiping, I want to know…" he didn't know why he was asking. It almost felt wrong, but he needed the conversation to continue. And maybe… Maybe he did just want more ideas.

"... How would *he* punish you for your misdeeds?" 

***

It took everything Hordak had in him to not turn tail and try to sprint away. He didn't want to walk about Prime, not while the King was acting like this. But he didn't have a choice, did he? This wasn't too different from living under Prime in that way, at least. He understood his role here. He just didn't like it. 

"He… He didn't usually bother with punishments when reconditioning was an option," Hordak began, loathing the way his voice was trying to quiver, "But when it wasn't--when a defect was involved--he would find a way to send them to their death that makes them serve until the last moment."

Micah hummed to himself, turning them up a flight of stairs, "I see. Was there anything else he would do to you besides that? There had to have been something. Anything that would make you afraid?" 

Hordak thought for a moment, of all his interactions with Prime. There were many that made him uncomfortable, upset, even angry, but besides reconditioning, only one other thing Prime did truly inspired fear. 

Hordak finally stepped away from Micah turning to face him and praying that he looked more stern than he felt, "I really, really should be going back to my room, Your Majesty. If you'll--" 

Micah grabbed his arm before he could walk away, pulling him down to his eye level, "You are **not** dismissed."

***

Hordak just wanted to go, but tugging his arm away only made Micah yank him closer again. 

He held up his free hand, fingers posed at the ready to craft a rune, "Don't make me force it out of you." 

Hordak's eyes were wide, "I--I d--He didn't… He didn't consider it a punishment, he always said it was a reward, but it's not--it wasn't--" Good god what was happening to him? He needs to pull himself together, he can't keep stammering like this--he can't keep *thinking* about this, Prime was gone, he was supposed to not have to worry anymore-- 

The faint glow of a rune shone over him now, not yet cast, and Micah was looking him in the face with a sudden gentle tiredness, "Just tell me what it is." 

Hordak didn't even know what to say. He knew what Etherians called it--he knew what they called a lot of things, but they were such taboo words. The kind of words you only say about someone else, not yourself. Just thinking it made him feel sick and dirty. Prime would never call it that. It was a good thing when it was him. It was an honor--yes, it hurt, yes, it scared Hordak more than he'd ever willingly admit, but it couldn't have been… *That*. 

That only happens to the weak, and helpless. Hordak wasn't weak, not back then. Prime would never have wasted his time or energy on the weak. 

"Answer me, Hordak. This is your final chance." 

Hordak hated this. He just wanted to curl up until the King got bored and went away--but that was not an option. He opened his mouth to try to answer, bit his lip quivered and he snapped it shut again. Fine. Maybe the truth spell would make this easier.

*** 

Micah was more than happy to cast the rune when Hordak refused to comply. The glowing lines washed over him, and he could see Hordak squeeze his eyes shut, tucking his chin in. 

Whatever Prime had done to "reward" them must have been intense to elicit such a reaction. Micah was almost concerned by just how eager he was to know it. 

"Tell me how Prime would reward you." 

Whatever Micah was expecting, it wasn't the waterworks. Tears slipping from Hordak's eyes before quickly being wiped away as he answered in the smallest whisper he must have been able to manage--far too quiet for Micah to hear. 

"Speak *up*." 

Hordak flinched at the harshness of his tone, taking a shaky breath, "Sex. It was sex." 

Oh. *Oooh.* 

The King could only stare for one long moment before retracting the spell. Hordak let his head hang low, stifling the unmistakable sound of crying with the back of his hand. That wasn't what he'd expected, but he'd admit he felt silly for not realizing a bit sooner. He'd heard what his daughter and Catra said--about how creepy Prime had been with some of his clones. 

But… It was still baffling to think that Hordak had been one of the many to suffer that fate. This former warlord had really once been in such a helpless position? How novel. 

***

Micah tugged the clone back to standing, and continued dragging him down the hall. He stumbled after him, hugging around his stomach with his free arm in an attempt to quell the roiling flip of nausea inside that threatened to make him sick at the memories he didn't want to think about. 

This was supposed to be over. Adora said he wouldn't have to think about this anymore, why was--

He was suddenly yanked to a stop as Micah opened the door to a room and shoved him inside roughly enough that he almost fell. He righted himself quickly, spinning around in time to see Micah locking the door. 

The King turned to look at him, and found a terrified, trembling creature where Hordak once stood. Hunched forward as if to make himself smaller, wings hugged tightly around his entire body. Micah resisted the urge to smirk in satisfaction--good. He should be afraid. 

Hordak watched Micah walk over to the bed, where he sat down and undid the tie holding back his hair. They looked at each other silently before Micah made a gesture to the area in front of him. 

Everything was so different here on Etheria, and Hordak had come to appreciate that about this planet. But right now… It was the same as before. It was as if he'd never been cast out by Prime in the first place. 

He walked to where Micah directed, keeping his eyes down as that sinking feeling in his chest began to take hold. 

*** 

"Get undressed." 

He knew it was coming. He knew--so why did it make him want to sob? That wouldn't help the situation--he's been through this enough that he knows that better than most people know their own names. 

And yet here he was, face slick with a fresh wave of tears as he did as he was told. Parting his wings and reaching around his back to undo the buttons holding together his satin nightgown. The thin straps over his shoulders slipped off on their own, and he let it fall to the ground around his feet. 

The room was warm, he knew. But he felt cold. He told himself that that's why he was still shaking. He was just cold. 

Micah was quiet, looking him over with an unreadable expression. His stomach flipped again when he looked him in the eye and beckoned him closer.

He stepped closer carefully, until he was just barely within reach. Micah didn't try to grab him, though--instead, he spread his legs and pointed down, "Kneel." 

Hordak did so without question, keeping his hands down on his own knees. He looked up at Micah--he was smirking down at him. 

"Do I really need to tell you what to do next?"

*** 

He doesn't. 

Hordak swallows dryly and reaches for the hem of the King's pants, pulling it down to reveal his cock--half hard and waiting. 

The clone grabs it carefully, pumping it gently, relieved at the way it grew firmer beneath his fingertips. This was something he knew how to do--perhaps he could get this over with sooner if he does it well. 

He leans in closer, tipping the member up so he could kiss the underside of it once--Micah's thighs got tense at that, and Hordak could hear the subtle hiss of a breath. Good--Good. He was doing well. 

He opened his mouth and licked up the underside of the shaft slowly--using the tips of his forked tongue to squeeze around it before closing his mouth around the head. Micah grabbed his hair suddenly, and Hordak looked up at him in fear. 

The King's eyes were closed, and his teeth were gritted. He tightened his grip on his hair, pulling hard enough to make the clone whimper. 

He was given no warning before Micah forced his head down, burying his cock into his throat with a choked groan of pleasure. Hordak gagged helplessly, clutching to the King's legs as he tried to breath around it--but he couldn't, and it hurt.

***

Just focus on the warmth. That tight, slick warmth. Ignore the strangled whimpers and sniffling--block it all out. Just pretend. 

Pretend this is Angella. 

His long, delicate fingers on his thighs, her thin, sweet lips wrapped around his cock, gulping him down and looking up at him with nothing but pure love and adoration. The gentle flutter of her wings--those beautiful, angelic, softly feathered wings--as they splayed out and draped across the floor. 

She was so beautiful. 

And when he cracked open his eyes again, all he saw was her shadow. 

Hordak's claws were only barely sheathed, his hands shaking where they braced on his thighs, and his lips were curled back, as far as he could get them, baring red fangs that he didn't dare let touch the thing invading his throat. His eyes were squinted slivers, glazed over and welled up with tears that fell down his face freely. Those demonic wings were the only thing that behaved the same--limp behind him, the digits and webbing spread out on the floor like a cape. They shivered and shuddered with every convulsion and attempted gasp their owner made. 

It was pathetic, pitiable in every sense of the word, that Micah found the twisted sight in front of him just as beautiful as the one in his imagination.

***

Just as his vision was starting to get spotty, Micah pulled his head back by his hair--he gulped down air with a stressed gasp, trying not to cough.

Micah jerked his head back again when Hordak tried to look away, "Look at me." 

Hordak's breath hitched when Micah cupped his cheek with his other hand, wiping year tracks off of his face. His grip loosened on his hair, fingers combing it back into place before abruptly grabbing his under the shoulders. 

He yelped when the King stood and lifted him up, just to turn around and shove him back onto the bed. His wings flapped on instinct, urging him to lash out, to get him off--but the hand wrapping around his throat quelled those urges completely.

"Don't fight it, and I won't have to hurt you," the King said lowly, squeezing the clone's neck threateningly before pushing his legs apart. 

Hordak let his body get moved and shifted to the King's liking, hiccuping meekly when he finally felt a hand on his waist, holding him now as Micah's cock pushed into him.

Hordak shut his eyes and forced himself to purr. 

*** 

Micah felt it before he heard it. The subtle vibration against his palm that made him jerk his head up to scold him--but it wasn't a growl. 

It was a purr--like the kind he made whenever Entrapta came to visit, but quieter, and broken--interrupted by the hiccups of suppressed sobs and sniffles. At first Micah was confused, but then he remembered what Hordak had said. Prime considered this a reward… 

Hordak must have been expected to act like he was enjoying it. 

The purr petters out to a pained mewl when Micah thrusts down to the hilt, rocking his hips into the warmth until the purring returns. Hordak's hands were clutching to the sheets, and he still, *still* hadn't stopped crying. Maybe this was too far--with him having a history of this…

No. He just needed to focus on how incredible this felt right now--he can wrestle with his conscience later. 

He loosens his grip on Hordak's throat and pulls his hips back, rutting into him at a leisure pace, savouring the sweet little noises and pathetic cries he could pull from him.

*** 

Hordak lay on the bed, fistfuls of the blankets pulled up to his face as if he was trying to hide. Micah hadn't expected him to be a restless sleeper--though perhaps it was just a side effect of the rune. 

It was still dark. It hadn't even been an hour. 

The King didn't feel well. He was sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. This was not good. He'd made a horrible call tonight. Several, in fact. A whole succession of them. And he wasn't sure if threatening Hordak into silence would work to keep it under wraps… He had a habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve. Someone would find out. It was a guarantee. 

He needed another walk. 

He gave Hordak one final look before standing up and heading to the door. He shut it quietly, glancing around--no guards. Good. He focused on the handle of the door, casting a lock spell. Just in case. 

He turned around to find himself face to mask with Shadow Weaver, and screamed in shock. 

He slammed his fist against the door, clutching a hand over his chest before shoulder checking his way passed her, "Don't **do that!** What is *wrong* with you?!" 

She may have a mask on, but it was very easy to tell she was smiling when she spoke, "What's wrong with *me*? That sounds like something I should be asking *you*," she said tauntingly. He stopped, but didn't turn around. 

"What do you mean?"

She tsked as she walked around him, resting her hand on his shoulder, "Oooh--I always knew you had it in you, Micah. I just never expected it to come out so suddenly--so *carelessly*," she said, brushing his hair behind his ear before he swatted her hand away. 

***

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Mmm… You do. And you know you've made a mistake--but, it's ok," She says, cocking her head to the side, "I'm more than happy to help you out. We both know he can't be allowed to remember what you've done--think of what your daughter would say." 

Of course she knew. Of course! Why wouldn't she? Her 'blackmail-able depraved deeds' sense always tingles whenever someone so much as litters one too many times. 

But she was good with magic. Maybe… Maybe she could help.

He frowned and crossed his arms, "Fine. How exactly do you suggest I deal with this situation then?" 

She stood tall and steepled her fingers, "Oh, it will take the both of us. Without a runestone to tap into, I don't have enough magic to do what needs to be done--but the two of us…" 

"Stop beating around the bush--what's the fucking spell?" He snapped.

If she was shocked at his outburst, she didn't show it. The pause before her reply was pointed, "A memory wiping spell, Micah. What else?" 

Ah. He supposes he should have seen that coming too. But it wasn't a horrible idea… Not in effectiveness, so long as they only removed the last few hours of the night. That would be more than enough to remove his culpability. 

He leveled a glare at her, "Only a few hours. Don't wipe him clean. That would be too suspicious." 

Shadow weaver's eyes narrowed, "Of course." 

Micah led her back to the room. Better to get this over quickly.


End file.
